


Don't Say His Name

by sixtysevenlmpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Marking, Possessive Dean Winchester, Pushy Bottoms, Rough Sex, Spanking, Tumblr Prompt, Weecest, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/sixtysevenlmpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this [very paraphrased] prompt from <a href="http://hushshu.tumblr.com/">Ashuka</a>: "Sam joins the debate club at their high school and practices with his partner after school at their house. Dean eventually can't stand the way he looks at Sam, so once they're done, he grabs a happy Sam and fucks him all nice and rough. Dirty talk/praise talk would be lovely too."<br/>Pretty much sums it up. Pushy!bottom!Sam purposely pushing Dean's buttons, anyone?<br/>Originally posted on <a href="http://sixtysevenlmpala.tumblr.com/post/51470256380/codys-coming-over-tonight-sam-said-casually-to">tumblr</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Say His Name

“Cody’s coming over tonight,” Sam said casually to Dean, grabbing up the toast Dean had made and taking a huge bite. John was out of town – again – so Sam’s default adult to ask for permission was Dean, even though Sam hardly considered an eighteen-year-old Dean Winchester to be anywhere near adulthood. “That’s cool, right?”

Dean looked up from the lore he was going through and frowned at Sam. “Who the hell is _Cody?_ ” he asked, unintentionally pulling a face at the name.

Giving an exasperated sigh, Sam replied boredly, “Guy from my debate team. We’re paired for the next debate, remember? I told you?” He rolled his eyes at Dean’s blank expression and added, “Whatever. He’s coming over to help prepare our argument, okay?”

He was gone by the time Dean next looked up – Sam actually cared about getting to school on time, unlike Dean who lounged for at least another thirty minutes – and that, he supposed with a shrug, was that.

 

***

Dean hadn't been meaning to watch them – he’d been sitting there with a different book open in front of him, skimming the pages for some information relevant to what his dad was doing so he could help in some way, but he couldn’t help glancing up now and then, just to check everything was okay.

It seemed that every time he did so, Sam had moved a little closer to Cody on the couch, which wasn’t all that roomy to begin with. He could be imagining things, of course, but the twist of certainty in his gut was enough to disprove that theory.

He glanced up one time to find Sam smiling all bright at this kid, his face completely lit up, and it made his heart flip over with happiness to see him looking so content for once until the dark thought of _but it’s not me he’s smiling at_ flitted through his mind, overshadowing his judgement. He forced his eyes back down to the page, and tried to think nothing of it.

The next time he looked up, Sam was laughing gut-achingly hard – _too fucking hard_ – at something Cody had said, and Cody himself was wearing an expression of complete wonderment, like he didn’t know how he could make Sam laugh so much but he was glad he could. Dean just clenched his jaw and tore his eyes away, because he knew the feeling too well.

On the next time, Dean’s heart shot up to his throat and stuck there, because Sam was ducking his head, all bashful and coy, then, as Dean watched, he slowly looked up and tilted his head at Cody as he spoke, a slow grin forming around his words. Sam’s eyes were locked on the other kid’s, and Dean could read the intent in them from where he was sitting. Dean couldn’t catch what he was saying, and a wave of irrational jealousy washed over him because it should be _him_ listening to Sam prattle on about God knows what, not this guy. _Cody_. What kind of fucking name was that, anyway?

The next time he glanced up, he was pretty sure he actually saw Sam reaching out and laying a hand on the kid’s stupid, skinny-jeans-clad leg, stroking his thigh a little as they spoke, and Dean accidentally snapped the pencil he was using to underline passages and phrases in the book.

The next and final time that Dean looked over, Sam was leaning over to whisper something into the kid’s ear. As far as Dean could tell, he was close enough that his lips would be brushing Cody’s ear, and Dean could almost feel the ghost of it. As he was talking, a smirk tugged at Sam’s lips, and one hand wandered up to toy with a lock of Cody’s hair, twirling it around his finger, and that was just—that was fucking _it_.

“Get out,” Dean snapped, not aware of when he’d stood up, not realising he’d even made his way over there until he was standing right at the back of the couch, looming over them. Cody looked up with wide, faintly terrified eyes – _so goddamn blue, bet that’s what Sammy likes best_ – and shoved Sam off of him as he started to stutter, but Dean only rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt like it was nothing. He hauled him out of his seat and escorted him to the front door, muttering, “I think it’s time you leave. It’s been real awesome having you, though. Seriously. _Cody_.”

As soon as Dean let go of the kid, he was off and running as fast as those skinny legs could carry him, and Dean slammed the door triumphantly after him, turning to find an expectant Sammy waiting for him. “Well?” Sam said, raising one eyebrow.

“Well what?” Dean bristled.

“Well, are you gonna tell me what the hell that was about?”

Dean let out a laugh, advancing slowly on his brother. “Oh, c’mon, Sammy. You know.”

Sam swallowed, and Dean watched his throat work. “Tell me anyway.”

When he reached Sam, Dean gripped his shoulders with both hands and backed him into the wall of the hallway, slamming him into it hard enough to make the picture frames shake. He pinned him there with his whole body, leg sliding in between both of Sam’s, chest to chest, nose to nose, lips almost brushing as Dean spoke. “You were flirting,” Dean murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “You were smilin’ at him and givin’ him this _look_ , and—and I can’t just let you—goddamn it, Sam, that look’s meant to be for me.”

“Wasn’t—“

“You were.” Dean let his lips drag along Sam’s cheek as he spoke, hands wandering up and down the sides of Sam’s waist. “You were sittin’ there gettin’ closer an’ closer, touchin’ him, lookin’ at him like—like—“

“Like what,” Sam breathed, and Dean clenched his teeth.

“Like you wanted him to throw you down on that goddamn couch and fuck you right through it.”

Sam exhaled and let out a small, soft noise, hips jerking up against Dean’s thigh a little before he got himself under control. “Maybe I did,” he whispered, like a secret, and when Dean met his eyes, they were glittering with a bold, mischievous dare.

“You didn’t,” Dean replied, even though he had no goddamn _clue_ what Sam wanted. He just knew what he _hoped_ Sam wanted. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well _you_ won’t do it, so,” Sam shot back in what Dean thought was perhaps a pre-prepared response, and he blinks, steps back a little.

The thing between them was… new. It had barely even started, in Dean’s books, simply long, heated make-out sessions and rushed handjobs in the dark. Dean had gone down on him once, a week ago. That was as far as it had gone. But every time, every time Sam was close and babbling and desperate, he’d ask for the same thing; _please, please just fuck me._

Dean had always refused. It had been months since they started this… this _thing_ , but still he wanted to string it out, even though it was plain to see both of them wanted it. Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to hang on until his brother was a little older, or wait to see if these confusing _(wrongwrongsowrongohgod)_ feelings would dissipate, but either way, his resolve was waning fast. There were only so many times he could fantasise about his own fist wrapped tight and hot around his cock as his baby brother’s ass before he began to be tempted to say yes.

“I _can’t_ ,” Dean muttered, frustrated, hands possessively gripping Sam’s hips even so.

“Why?” Sam asked, reaching up to wind his arms around Dean’s neck. “’Cause I’m too young? Cody doesn’t think so,” and Dean _growled_ , shoved Sam back more firmly against the wall, pushing a gasp out from his lungs.

“Don’t,” Dean muttered dangerously, “don’t say his name like that.”

“C-Cody wants me,” Sam told him, and for a moment Dean’s vision flashed white with pure jealousy.

“Shut _up_ ,” he warned, ducking his head to sink his teeth into the place where Sam’s neck met his shoulder, leaving a bruise that might as well have been a giant ‘property of Dean Winchester’ stamp.

“Fuck me,” Sam replied instantly, hissing at the pain, “and maybe I will.”

“Christ,” Dean whispered, lips pressed against Sam’s temple now.

“I could just go get it from him, instead,” Sam breathed, and that was it. Dean bent at the knee and slid his hands down to cup Sam’s ass, hauling him up as Sam made a startled noise and wrapped his legs instinctively around Dean’s waist.

“No,” Dean muttered simply, “you couldn’t.” He carried him easily back over to the couch, threw him down right on top of a bunch of notes he and Cody had been going over just moments before. “You couldn’t, ‘cause he’s not who you want,” Dean added, and there was a sureness to his tone but deeper inside, jealous worry was tweaking at his mind. Dean flipped his brother over onto his stomach in one smooth movement, leant down to murmur in his ear. “I’m gonna fuck you right here, right where you were sluttin’ it up with that kid, and you’re not even gonna remember he was ever sitting here,” he said, voice fierce and determined, and Sam shuddered out a gasp.

A smirk on his face, Dean ripped Sam’s shirt off of him and wrestled him out of his jeans and his boxers, standing over him fully-dressed when he was done and looking down with satisfaction at his brother laid out bare. As he smoothed a hand down Sam’s back and over his ass, he somehow found the sense in the jealous, possessive haze of his mind to curse the fact that they don’t have any lube down here. When he looked up, Sam was watching him frown, and then said quietly, “Just do it.”

They both knew what he meant, but Dean struggled, starting to say, “I don’t wanna—“

“I’ve done it before,” Sam blurted, and Dean’s stomach caved in on itself before he clarified, “I mean, it’s… I do it. Uh. Myself.”

Dean’s mouth dropped half-open, staring down at his brother and imagining him all spread out on his bed or arched against the tiled wall of the shower, fingers thrusting inside himself and hips rolling to take them deeper, and before he knew what was happening he was _on_ Sam, shoving at him to rearrange him so he was draped over the arm of the couch, cock trapped between himself and the material.

Dean brought two fingers to his mouth and sucked them past his lips, getting them sloppy and wet as fast as he could, and Sam met his eyes over his shoulder and gave a tiny nod. That was all the permission Dean needed, shoved inside with both at once just to hear Sam cry out. It was too much to start on but neither of them cared, eagerness bleeding out of their pores and saturating the air around them until they were both drunk on it, and Dean fingered his little brother hard and unforgiving, Sam hissing out a breath every time Dean scissored his fingers. It was rough and Dean should have felt bad, but Sam was cursing and asking for _more, more,_ so he only put more force behind it, fucking his fingers into him with long, powerful stabs. It wasn’t until Sam bit out, “Are you gonna do this, or not?” that Dean pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his spit-slick cock.

Jesus, he wasn’t prepped enough, and a small but crucial part of Dean’s brain was still primarily focused on whether it was too much for him, whether he was in pain, whether he didn’t like it; meanwhile, the rest of his brain screamed at him to get the hell on with it, so he bottomed out with one long thrust and wasted no more time, snapping his hips out and back in. Sam made a noise that sounded almost like a sob, but he was pushing back into it so Dean didn’t let up, muttering, “God, Sammy, yeah – that’s it, baby, you’re so good for me, huh? Take it so good.”

Dean fucked him fast and hard and brutal, the pace of his thrusts completely relentless. He was a blanket over Sam’s back, pinning him between himself and the couch, wanting to cover every inch of his body with himself. He pounded into him and sucked an array of bruises into his shoulders, his neck, his back, anywhere he could reach; his fingers leaving phantom prints on his hips where he was grasping him so goddamn tight, pulling him back into his thrusts.

“Would _Cody_ have fucked you like this, huh? Would he?” Dean panted out, mouth hot behind Sam’s ear, and Sam shook his head no, hair tickling Dean’s nose. “Would you have let him have you like this? Huh?”

“N-no,” Sam gasped in reply.

“No, ‘cause you’re mine.” Dean bit at his neck, his ear, and God, he _knew_ Sam was only trying to rile him up – looked like that worked, huh – but still he needed to reiterate: “ _Mine_ , Sammy, you hear?”

And Sam instantly moaned, “Yes, _Jesus_ , always yours, Dean,” muscles clenching down around Dean’s cock.

“Promise me you’ll only ever take my cock, no one else’s,” Dean muttered, one hand winding itself into Sam’s hair and tugging hard, forcing his head up.

“I p-promise, oh—oh God,” Sam gasped.

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, rewarding him with a particularly hard thrust that made him cry out and his fingernails scratch at the arm of the couch as he scrabbled for something to hold onto. “No one else is gonna get to see you like this, gonna know how hot you look with your pretty little ass all filled up. No one else gets to see how much of a cockslut you are, Sammy, this is just for me, alright?”

“Yes,” Sam breathed, trembling a little underneath him as he worked his hips with Dean’s, trying to follow every time to keep him inside. Dean gave an appreciative growl and a tug on his hair that pushed a high-pitched moan out of Sam’s mouth. “It-it’s only, I’m only—“ Sam broke off to gasp, then corrected him in a whisper, “only for _your_ cock,” and Dean groaned into his neck, unable to stop his hips from slamming forward, jolting Sam on the couch.

“Good boy,” Dean breathed, panting into his neck as he ground his cock in deep, fucked him in hard, powerful strokes. “That’s my good baby boy.” Sam let out a ragged moan and arched his back, looked over his shoulder at Dean. His lips were swollen and red and shining from biting on them, his eyes blown dark, cheeks flushed ruddy pink and Dean just had to crane his head to kiss him. He was glad, so fucking glad that Cody or anyone else didn’t get to see Sam like this, because he was… stunning. So beautiful he literally took Dean’s breath away, and before he could stop himself he let that thought slip past his lips: “You’re so beautiful.” He immediately blushed, because that wasn’t exactly a word they used for each other very often, so he covered it up by muttering, “Fuckin’ _gorgeous_ , Sammy, _look_ at you, flushed all pretty pink, so hot with your tight little ass stretched around my cock.”

Sam moaned, desperate. “ _De_ —“

"You’re so good, baby, fuckin’ made for this, Christ, you feel so—so fuckin’ amazing.” Dean could feel himself starting to lose control, his hips slapping wildly against Sam’s ass, and he brought his hand down onto the pale skin of one cheek before he could stop himself. The smack wasn’t too hard, but it would have stung and it left a perfect print of Dean’s splayed hand. Dean groaned – because hell if that wasn’t the hottest thing _ever_ – but still guilt boiled in his belly, so he opened his mouth to say sorry.

The apology died on his lips, though, when he realized Sam was bucking underneath him, cursing and whimpering softly, “Do that again, d-do that again.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean mumbled, bringing his hand back and swinging it down once more, a little harder, spanking him in the same place as before. Before Dean could even ask the ‘guess you like that, huh?’ that was running through his head, Sam was crying out and shuddering underneath him, ass tightening impossibly around his cock as he came untouched over the couch. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” Dean moaned, and as Sam slumped bonelessly down onto the cushions, Dean only had to thrust into him for a few more seconds before he was emptying himself inside of him, shoving Sam up the couch with the force of his thrusts as he marked him from the inside.

Dean’s mind was a bit of a blur as he came down, the fuzziness only really clearing a few minutes later, when they were both splayed out, spent and exhausted, on the couch. Dean’s eyes wandered over the marks littering Sam’s back and his neck, and a slow, satisfied smile unfolded on his face. “Bet you wouldn’t’ve gotten off so hard with that Cody kid,” Dean muttered, and his tone was joking, but it hid something a little more insecure.

Sam rolled over with some difficulty and stared at Dean like he’d grown an extra head. “Didn’t want it with Cody,” he said, like it was obvious.

Dean blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “I knew you were just tryn’a fuck with me.”

Sam grinned lazily. “I was tryn’a make you jealous. And it worked.”

“Fuck you,” Dean muttered, without much conviction. His eyes had slipped closed, but he cracked one open to look at Sam and bit his lip as he asked, “So… you, uh. You really don’t like him?”

“I really, really don’t like him,” Sam answered softly.

“You sure?” Dean cleared his throat. “He has pretty blue eyes,” he pointed out casually, heart pounding dully in his chest.

Sam shifted so he was leaning into Dean’s side, Dean’s arm automatically winding around his shoulders. Sam pressed a soft, careful kiss to Dean’s cheek and smiled at him, shaking his head like he was stupid before telling him matter-of-factly, “I prefer green.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you liked!


End file.
